This is the Last Time
by NozomigaAruNarabaKanaeru
Summary: Moments, snippets. I don't know. He doesn't know. And I hate, bile and disgust building, allowing an avalanche of loathing to stream forward. But from him, or me- I really don't know. Warning: Depressing, really messed up writing, can't tell which character is which. Disclaimer: Implied and named characters are not mine, except for the OC.


Breathe, I lie to myself.

Breathe, I convince myself.

Breathe, I command myself.

Breathe, I tell myself a little lie.

Breathe, I give myself a falsity.

Breathe, I handed out my death.

Breathe, I gave away my soul.

Breathe, I'm to be killed.

Breathe, my own hands, stained with my own blood.

Breathe, and I tell myself one last beautiful lie.

Breathe, I open my eyes.

* * *

Next, I say.

Later, I continue.

Fine, I repeat.

Leave, I command.

Please, I whisper.

No, they answer.

We're here, they try to soothe.

We're not leaving, they stated.

It can't wait, they persist.

Come on, they coax.

* * *

I want a hole. I want a shovel. I want a name. But I'm to have none.

* * *

I'm here, I say.

You're not, they answer.

I am, I persist.

You're not, they retort.

I'm not, I tell myself.

* * *

It's dark. It's damp. It's cold. It's hot.

I hate it.

* * *

Craning my head up, I look.

Lowering his head, he stares.

But we don't see.

* * *

Breathe, he warned.

I am, I say.

Breathe, he repeats.

No, I answer.

Breathe, he urges.

Fine, I relent.

Don't tell lies, he admonishes.

I didn't, I lie.

He sighs.

It's fine.

Bile builds up, my stomach turns, I can't stand it.

* * *

Tears start to roll, gently, they slide down smooth skin, tracing its contours and shapes.

* * *

No, I whisper.

* * *

Broad daylight hurts the eyes.

Life has fled from my grasps.

I hate this.

* * *

Please, I beg.

They don't hear me.

* * *

Breathe, I repeat to myself.

Breathe, the mantra continues.

Breathe, the voice compels.

Breathe, I shout.

But, I can't hear.

I shout.

I tried, I tell myself.

I tell myself.

But, I lie.

* * *

I hate.

Oh, how I hate.

I don't even know how.

But, oh.

How I hate.

I hate,

And it hurts.

Help me.

* * *

Desperate pleas,

Falling from blubbering lips,

As tears overwhelm eyes,

And,

I'm blinded,

Becoming deaf,

And losing touch with reality,

I end up lost,

With no sense to lead me.

* * *

Please,

I tell myself.

Please,

I beg.

Please,

Breathe...

* * *

Here, I would scream.

There, they would respond in like.

* * *

No.

No!

**No!**

**_No!_**

* * *

I'm going, I'd say.

You won't, they say.

I won't, I agree.

* * *

I'll leave, I threaten.

Leave, he says.

I crumble.

But I stay.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

So sorry.

Really sorry.

Desperately sorry.

* * *

Please listen to me.

Please hear me.

Please listen.

Please look at me.

Please.

**Please.**

**_Please._**

* * *

I don't see.

I don't hear.

I don't know.

* * *

Don't see me.

Don't hear me.

Don't know me.

Stay.

* * *

Vile.

Disgust.

Loathing.

Hatred.

Love.

Fervor.

Adoration.

Beauty.

* * *

Do you know, I would start then pause, as if forgetting what I was just about to say. Then I'd look around in confusion, seemingly forgetting my surroundings. After, you'd gently take my hand and bring it into your palms, talking to me.

"Look at me," you'd say.

"Listen to me," you'd continue.

"Hear me," you'd whisper.

"See me," you'd sob.

When it's all over. I'd look at you, but not seeing you, smile, and ask all over again:

"Why do you cry?" But you won't answer.

"Why do you ask?" You'd cry harder, huge sobs shaking thin shoulders, the heavy boulder sitting upon your shoulders crushing your hopes.

"Why are you here?" I'd start, and this is when you start to hyperventilate, backing away from me. "Where are we?" You'd start shaking your head vigorously, trying to block out the innocent words. "When I can see *^* again?" That's your cue to flee.

And you leave. I stay.

* * *

The dark. It's so dark. Only blackness, not a speck of white. It's dark, so dark.

No light.

* * *

Hi, I would like to say.

Die, you'd reply.

Then, I'd smile.

And you'd crumble under its weight.

* * *

Hate, you'd tell me.

Whisper it in my ear, words caressing the shell.

Hate, you'd repeat.

Running delicate yet rough hands through my hair, weary eyes looking into mine.

Hate, you'd say.

Standing across from me, eyes blazing with fury.

Then I'd hate.

You, who knows all and none.

You, with gently touches and soft words.

You, bitter aura and sad profile.

You, whom I love.

Yet, you whom I hate.

But I don't.

I lie.

I tell truths.

I hate.

And hate.

Hate so much.

But not you.

Never you.

It's me, I hear whispered.

But from who-

I don't know.

* * *

I say: Please, please do not cry.

I say: Please, please, do not leave.

I say: Please, please, I will be alive.

I say: Please, please, don't break me anymore.

I say: Please, please, I need you by my side.

I say: Please, please, don't take me away.

I say: Please, please, don't abandon me.

I say: Please, please, see me.

I say: Please, please, doth not forget me.

I say: Please, please, doth find me.

I say: Please, please, doth... Doth be here.

* * *

A grimy smile. A sad edge. A tired voice. A tearing mask. His truth comes out.

A beautiful smile. An articulate flow of words. An impeccable appearance. No one sees his lies.

* * *

I am me, he says. He is him, he continues. I know, he speaks. But he doesn't, he follows up.

* * *

The sun shines, the moon reflects, and he sees his shadow, but not his own light.

* * *

They are not, he starts. I can't continue, he states.

His hands are red with blisters. He doesn't see more than a foot in front of him. He doesn't know.

* * *

The sun beats down, the moon soothes, and he's lost within sensations.

Light is nice.

* * *

Demons lurk the corners, shades swallow up the brightness, and he welcomes the cold.

The dark doesn't hurt.

* * *

I love you, I say.

I despise you, he replies.

We don't know each other, someone inputs.

I don't know who.

I love you, I repeat to myself.

Don't tell lies, he returns.

I love, I say.

I don't, he states. It hurts.

I'm sorry. And I leave.

* * *

I'm here, I say.

I know, he says.

You don't see, I speak in return.

I'm not blind. He sounds irritated.

Not in the eyes, no. Calmly, my voice flows across the short distance. The waves don't drown my voice out, I know.

He doesn't answer.

* * *

Why are you here? He starts off first, a first for him.

I shrug, because I can be here.

He scowls, and my stomach flutters a bit.

I stare, he ignores me.

He leaves it at that.

* * *

Smiles, dark and sinister.

Frowns, gentle and severe.

I see none.

* * *

Love, mindless and pandering.

Hate, sharp and hurtful.

I'd rather have indifference, but that which equals total disregard and lack of acknowledgement isn't something I want.

Yet, I can't help but yearn for it at times, seeing as that is the only real thing he possesses.

* * *

Warmth, enveloping all life and granting a pathway to all.

Cold, wrapping and biting you incessantly, demands attention because it's blocked from all.

I don't like any of it.

* * *

When, I asked.

Then, you answered.

* * *

Smiling, grieving, laughing, crying, knowing, and loving.

Gently, a kind expression adorned your normally severe features, and I let myself feel joy for that moment.

Yet, I still preferred indifference.

* * *

Stop, he snaps.

Why, I wonder.

He glares, I stare.

He turns away. It hurts.

I grab on.

He pauses.

It just is.

* * *

Leave, he commands.

Defiantly, I shake my head.

He finally looks at me.

Leave, he says again.

No, I say this time.

His eyes narrow, my throat clamps up.

He leaves.

Tears don't touch my eyes anymore.

At least, I tell myself so.

* * *

Where are you, he asks for the first time.

Here, I answer.

He doesn't hear me.

Where are you, he repeats.

Here, I say, a quiet whisper flowing from phantom lips.

Come out, he commands, standing tall.

Yet, I could see the fine shaking along his broad shoulders.

I am, I plead desperately.

He has never saw.

* * *

He heard the words spoken, but paid more attention to the unspoken ones.

I don't know if I felt happy or afraid at that moment.

* * *

Don't look, I plead.

I'm not, he answered.

You lie, I state.

I don't, he denies.

Not with your eyes, I retort.

No, he agrees.

It's frightening, how much he understands.

* * *

Please, I beg.

No. He's disinclined to agree.

Please, I whisper.

No. There's no waver.

Please...

I disappear.

* * *

I demand you to tell me where you are! He shouts, angry words echoing and bouncing in the empty space.

I stand.

He has never seen.

* * *

Why, I want to cry.

Why, I can cry.

But, why.

I just can't.

Hey, I want to shout.

See me, I want to say.

But, you can't.

I know.

And that's why it hurts so much.

* * *

I ask, doth find me.

But I plead, doth not see.

Yet you ask, doth be free.

Impossible.

* * *

I don't want to be seen.

I don't want to be found.

I don't need saving.

I don't need you.

But he disagrees.

And it hurts.

* * *

Hi, I'd smile at him.

He'd stare.

I don't know why.

He doesn't either.

We don't know.

* * *

He smiles, my heart aches.

He laughs, my heart aches.

He fidgets, my heart aches.

He speaks, my heart aches.

He dances, my heart aches.

He cooks, my heart aches.

He cries, my heart is agonized.

He screams, my heart tears.

He despairs, my heart is broken.

What am I to do?

* * *

Laughable, I say to myself.

He frowns.

Idiotic, I speak again.

He looks away.

I didn't realize tears had started to fall.

When the liquid touches my hands-

I scream.

* * *

I love to write, but I have a terrible mouth. I don't like being around people, I can't be like them. I'm different, yet too similar. Let me be. Le me be.

It's my fault, I keep thinking. It's my fault, I tell myself. It's my mistake, I repeat.

I can't take this guilt, the revolting bile building up in my throat...

* * *

Expect me to change, maybe I'll do so.

Expect me to hide, perhaps.

Expect me to not be, I certainly hope so.

Expect me to be someone else underneath everything, you've another thing coming.

* * *

I shall hold my tongue if I may.

I shall change if I can.

I shall hide if I should.

Yet, I will always be who I am.

I adapt for my own comfort, not for yours.

I am me, you are you, two different entities, and we'll never be for each other.

* * *

He doesn't know. She doesn't know. I shouldn't know.

But I know.

* * *

What's wrong, you ask.

Nothing, I would respond, but you won't believe me.

And that's where what's wrong.

* * *

It's boring.

I know, I'd answer.

But I won't, because my mind is always too busy trying to remember how to live.

At times, I would wish that I wasn't though.

* * *

Inadequate. Death. Love. Loss. Gone. _Dead_.

* * *

I'm here, he soothes.

You're a lie, he answers.

I am, he replies.

His head falls back into his hands.

* * *

Give him back, he whispered. Then, glaring with a fierce hatred I had never been faced with before, he shouts, GIVE HIM BACK!

I recoil, gripping the bundle even closer to my chest, trying to covet the child.

But I lose.

* * *

Give, give, give, give, give... That's all there is.

* * *

When am I to have my heart again?

* * *

Please, please

* * *

_Please..._

* * *

"Harry!"

Yes?

"Harry!"

I'm here.

"No!- Oh my god! Harry!"

Martha?

"Open your eyes you damn bastard!"

Martha...

"You idiot! Wake up!"

Martha...

"Don't die, I said!"

Please...

"Please..."

Please...

"Please... Why can't you wake?"

Please...

"You can't do this..."

Don't cry, don't weep, don't sob out your soul.

"Harry..." A desperate plead.

I know...

"You liar."

I'm sorry.

* * *

The child's laughter tinkered happily. His wife bustled around, gently and possessively holding onto their babe.

He's content.

A crack of apparation startles him out of his reverie. An elf stands there. Nervously, it wrings its hands. Someone's here to see him.

He goes to receive the person.

* * *

The squib stands before him, stiff but erect, determination shining through a false front.

With a cold politeness, he questions, "Is there any reason for this visit?"

If possible, the woman stiffens even more. Her mouth compresses and she looks as if she's trying to suppress tears. Wanting to spare himself the waterworks, he calls for an elf. Whimsy appears. Clapping his hands, he commands Whimsy to bring their guest out if she doesn't want to talk.

Startled but angry, the woman lurches out of the elf's reach and stands to the side, stiff necked.

She speaks, starting with a whisper, but gradually gains more volume. "Please," she starts, "Please go see him."

He doesn't need to know who the 'him' is. He knows perfectly well. She continues.

"You need to see him. If you don't-" she breaks of into a sob, unable to continue on. Blubbering lips continue to choke out the words as hands come up to stifle the flow of tears. "H- he's dying. Oh lord, you've got to see him," she pauses, taking a breath, trying to compose herself, and continues, "Please, if only for the family he has granted you."

In turn for her words, his posture stiffens with apprehension and unwillingness to further listen to the direction this conversation is heading towards. He schools his features into a blank mask, hiding his anxiety, as he passively says, "It doesn't matter to me whatever that is happening to him. I'm sure I had made it clear that I don't want to even hear of him again."

Hearing that, her person freezes up. Then, as if trying to drown out everything else, her face twists into one of ugly hatred and anger along with resignation. She holds herself up regally now, pushing away all the nasty emotions to leave only a cold indifference towards him. "Is that so? I see, I'm sorry for having wasted your time Mr. Malfoy. We won't be disturbing you again then." With that, she turned and walked away without hesitation, knowledge of the definite outcome already etched into her stance from the minute she decided to come here.

Draco Malfoy hates Harry Potter enough to wish him dead, dying in agony and loneliness with despair filling his heart and the bile of being despised and loathed filling his mouth.

* * *

"Harry," she whispers, hoping he'd hear her, but the man doesn't stir.

"Harry," she murmurs again, running a hand through his now long locks. She smiles a little at the thought of him reacting to his nest of a hair when he wakes up, most likely freaking out at its length and lamenting over the fact that no matter the length he's always going to have an untamable head.

But, he most likely won't, and at that thought, her smile drops.

"Harry," she starts again. "When are you going to wake up?"

She hides her face in one of his shoulders, trying to take in the last vestiges of his smell that's not washed away by antiseptic. "Why did you have to resort to that?" Her tone, so small and desperate, did nothing to rouse the slumbering man. And even though she asked the question, she knew perfectly well why he had done it. And that's what hurt the most, knowing that his loved one hates him enough that even when he's on the verge of death, he can be as cold hearted as to not see him. She doesn't know what else she could do though. She doesn't know what else she could do for this abandoned man, the one who had saved them, but above all had saved her. She needed to do something, but isn't even capable of that.

Why? She wonders again.

But, she knows.

* * *

I don't want to, I answer.

Okay, they reply.

And that's that.

* * *

I can't, I say.

We understand, they lie.

Fine, I respond.

* * *

Stop, I say.

What?! They're startled.

Leave, I whisper.

They don't.

So I do.

* * *

"Martha." I pat her head, smoothing over the unruly blond locks, threading my hand into soft hair.

"Yes, Harry?" She asks, large silver eyes staring up at me.

I look at her, vibrant eyes now dulled to a putrid green, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'll always be here." I don't know who I'm trying to convince.

She understands, and nods, knowing the truth.

I smile, but I lie.

* * *

Where are you?! He shouts.

I don't hear.

I'm here, I whisper.

But he doesn't see.

* * *

"Hey." I smile at her. She grins back.

It doesn't hurt.

It doesn't.

* * *

Please stop the pain you caused me.

Please comfort me.

Please stop shattering my heart into pieces.

Please tell me everything's alright.

Please don't be cruel.

* * *

I laugh.

He stares on.

It ends.

* * *

Why, I ask myself.

Why, I ask him.

Why, I ask them.

Because you let him.

I did.

I let him.

* * *

I laugh, a bitter sound.

She tilts her head up at me, looking at me curiously.

I smile, but she doesn't.

* * *

Hate, I tell myself.

Hate, I repeat.

Hate, she says.

Looking into molten silver, I can't lie.

But seeing beautiful gold specks floating, I collapse.

Please, I beg her.

Please don't hate.

* * *

He doesn't listen. He never does. She glares at him accusingly. He looks back with a sheepish smile; pasted on and fake if one knew where to look for the fraying edges and tearing seams.

She doesn't do anything. The smile drops.

She knows. She always knows.

* * *

Hey, I smile.

You don't.

What went wrong? I'd ask.

Nothing, you'd answer.

And I left it at that.

* * *

Are you okay, I'd ask.

In a clipped tone, he answers, yes.

_Are we okay?_ Hangs in the air unsaid.

But I know.

We're not okay.

* * *

His despair, sharp like shattered shards, so thick, becoming tangible, -

I give in.

* * *

Why, he'd ask.

Why, I'd reply.

He grits his teeth, mouth set in a grim line.

Why, I'd ask again.

He turns away.

* * *

I would like to see that child again, I'd say.

Martha, I'd start.

Harry, she'd say in reply.

I don't know then.

What happened again?

* * *

I could never have him, I realized.

He could never be mine.

I could never be his.

But I wanted.

I wanted, and wanted.

Wanted so much, wanted so badly.

I wanted.

Just wanted.

More and more, more than he could give, more than he could offer.

I wanted.

But he didn't.

And he couldn't.

I wanted.

* * *

Please, I would beg.

Please, just a moment more.

But, I pleaded, No.

Leave. Don't look at me.

Leave. It hurts.

* * *

Please, I'd beg again.

Don't show me, I'd whisper.

Don't look, I'd wish.

Don't be here, I'd pray.

Unheard the hopes went.

* * *

He stayed.

He looked.

He showed.

And I saw.

But he left.

* * *

No.

No.

No.

* * *

He would smile.

He would, I told myself.

But he didn't.

* * *

Martha, I started.

She tilted her face up to look into mine, wide silver eyes with floating specks of gold shining curiously.

I'd display a smile and wonder aloud, Will you be alright?

She knows, and tries to nod her head, but it's determined to shake.

It's fine, I'd then respond.

And that's that.

* * *

Push it down.

Lock it up.

Keep it deep inside.

Don't look for it.

Ignore it.

It doesn't exist.

Move forward.

Keep looking, don't look back.

It's fine.

Everything's fine.

But I lie.

* * *

Fools hide pain in the eyes.

But the brilliant hide it in their smiles.

I quirk a sardonic tilt of the lips.

I agree.

* * *

It takes away everything, but doesn't really quite make it.

I laugh.

* * *

Lingering, only the crimson scent of life's elegy clinging onto its last vestiges.

Who, they demanded.

I don't know, I whisper.

Grim lines compressed and made appearances on many faces. I ignore it.

* * *

Who, they asked again.

I don't know, I respond.

Deep lines etch frowns across laughter lines. I don't care.

* * *

He's safe, I hear the whisper, caressing it as it caressed my ear.

And I smile.

* * *

He waits.

Come back?

He waits.

Where are you?

* * *

Please...

* * *

I don't look, he doesn't see.

It's fine.

* * *

We don't speak, they don't know.

It's fine.

* * *

It's been years, I say.

I know, he says.

It ends there.

* * *

Why, I ask.

I don't know, he answers.

Alright.

* * *

Living with him was difficult, living without him was Hell.

* * *

Where are you, I ask.

Where am I, he answers.

Here, I say.

Where, he questions.

Here, I reply.

Ok, he leaves it at that.

* * *

We don't talk.

We don't touch.

We don't see.

* * *

Blindness.

Deafness.

Muteness.

Disinclined proclivity.

* * *

Here, I call out.

There, he replies.

* * *

I know, I answer.

You don't see, he states.

I don't, I agree.

It's dark.

* * *

Here, I handed you my heart.

There, you broke it apart.

Now, I want it back.

Then, you didn't want it.

Yet, it's still grasped tightly in your hold.

Give it back...

It hurts.

It's broken.

Only pieces, lethal shards, are left.

Yet, I can still love you with all the bits.

* * *

I ask,

You answer,

I don't know.

You don't know.

We don't hear.

Our sight is blinded.

I don't like it.

* * *

Being what you aren't hurts.

Being what you are hurts.

Being hurts.

I'm not me, I'm hurt.

I'm me, I'm hurt.

I am, I hurt.

* * *

Did you know, he starts.

No, I cut him off.

Oh, he says.

We leave it at that.

Did you know, he began.

I nod.

How it began?, he finished.

Tense. Afraid. Hurt. I shake my head.

You lie, he accuses.

I do, I reply.

Tell me, he commands.

I let him know.

He didn't speak.

* * *

Tell me again, he asks.

I shake my head.

* * *

Please, I plead.

They don't hear.

* * *

He wakes me up.

What's wrong, he asks. Concern colors the world too bright of a color.

I recoil from his touch.

He retreats, hurt.

It's fine, I tell myself.

I am, it doesn't hurt.

You lie, I whisper.

* * *

He's fine, he tells me, tells himself.

I nod.

* * *

I'm fine, I repeat.

To myself only.

There's no one.

* * *

Uneven surface.

Ugly layering.

Revolting colors.

Repulsive personality.

Disgusting.

Wretched.

Broken.

Not beautiful.

* * *

I laugh.

Twisted.

Wretched.

* * *

I hate.

Despise.

Despicable.

Loathe.

Hateful.

Disagreeable.

Mocking.

Disgusting.

* * *

Gone.

Mouth the word, know its shape, imprint it into your being.

* * *

I know, he whispers.

You don't, I answer.

Swiftly, I turn.

All I leave is a broken man who lives in denial.

He doesn't know.

* * *

I smile. It doesn't hurt.

I laugh. It feels light.

I scream. Out of shock, not fear.

I giggle. It doesn't drag chains behind it.

I debate. I'm free.

Yet, there's a dull ache.

It's there.

Behind my eyes.

It's there.

In the recesses of my brain.

It's there.

Hidden in the dark pits of my heart.

It's there.

Always hovering in my peripheral vision.

It's there.

It's there.

It's there.

I can't ignore it.

* * *

Lightly, the words flow from my lips, a gentle trickle from the raging ocean tapering down into a clam rivulet.

It's dark, the grandfather clock rings for the phantoms and apparitions of memories to crawl out.

I hide, and speak.

Out comes pouring the indistinguishable words, all jumbled and twisted, unable to be deciphered any longer, slowly descending into the mad mutterings of a likely insomniac, roughly transcending over the normal capabilities of understanding of humans well into alien territory.

He finds me.

I stop.

We don't talk.

The clock strikes early dawn.

At last, he asks, Why?

I answer, because I can.

I lie.

But I don't.

He knows.

Why, he asked again.

I don't know, I answer.

Consternation pasted itself consistently across his demeanor, but another starts to emerge.

Carefully, he tried to administer a delicate question. Not quite able to manage to do so, the words having trouble forming in his mind, he gives up with a frustrated huff, turning away.

I know. That's why I picked at the wound. He needed to leave.

Lies, I started.

Beliefs, I continued.

Life crowds in. Judgement is blurred.

I saw wrong, I end.

Surprise comes first, before understanding dawns.

Expression shifted into one of suppressed humiliation and anger, he leaves after offering a tight smile.

I curl in on myself.

I think, and think.

The truth?, I tested the notion out.

The fear that comes rushing in pulls me up short.

No, never the truth.

I whisper, it goes unheard.

Tears roll silently down.

I didn't see.

* * *

I shake my head.

Not a lie, but not a reply either.

* * *

I can't, I tell myself.

Because I'm not.

* * *

You are.

You aren't.

You are.

You aren't.

I am.

I'm not.

I am.

I'm not.

* * *

Hee, I'd say.

But, they won't believe me.

* * *

He'd see me again, and ask.

I'd see him, but I won't reply.

I heard.

He knows.

But it's fine.

It'll be fine.

Because I'm not.

* * *

I know, I say.

I know, he says.

It's not right, we say.

It's not right, they say.

We know, I answer.

Silently, he answers.

I know now, I tell myself.

But I don't.

* * *

Doth not lie, I plead.

Doth not see, for I will flee.

Doth not be, because I cannot be.

Doth not be cruel, I wish for tenderness.

Doth not be you, because then I can't be me.

Doth not, because I'm not a part of the plot.

Doth not...

I don't exist.

* * *

Sometimes, I plead.

Sometimes, I don't.

Sometimes, I wish.

Sometimes, I pray.

But not once were they answered.

* * *

I hope you won't cry, for the wrongs done and the promises forgotten.

I hope you won't hate, for the lies spoken and the truths hidden.

I hope you won't fall, for the sky is too high and the dark pits too low.

I hope you won't be, for then pain will take no shape and hurt will have no hold.

I hope you will forget, for the pestilence will then be cleared.

Sleep, I plead, sleep, I ask, sleep, I beg, and sleep you did. So sleep.

* * *

Dark waters swim soothingly, interlacing with one another, so intimately interwoven into one another that their borders become blurred. And, though they are not perfect, one cannot differentiate where one began and the other ended.

I had wished to be like that.

But, I knew.

He knew.

We knew.

They knew.

All had known.

That it was wrong. For I wasn't, and he was. The 'we' had imagined was but a dream. I can't be.

Because, I'm not.

I wanted to be, I wanted to be, and I wanted to be.

But I can't be.

I wanted, wanted, wanted, wanted, and wanted so much.

I'm wont to want.

But there's not even that to grasp on.

I've loved, loved, loved, loved, loved, and loved.

I'm still loving.

He hasn't gone, and I still am, but I'm just not.

He still can't see.

I still can't touch.

They still deny me.

All is lost.

* * *

Hands slowly traced patterns onto the blank canvas.

Stop, he says.

Hold my hand, I say.

It's cold, he replies.

I know, I answer.

You don't, he retorts.

I don't smile.

He doesn't look at me.

The silence is heavy.

The quietness deafening.

We don't speak.

We know.

* * *

Please, I beg.

Please, I plead.

Please, I wish.

Please, I hope.

Please, I'm not wronged.

Please, don't have lied.

Please, I don't know.

Please, I won't lie again.

Please, I'll be good.

Please...

Please, Please!

Please... Come back.

* * *

It's cold. Slithering arms snake itself around me, grounding me, telling me this is real.

Lies.

* * *

Please, I beg one last time,

Please, don't tell lies.

I smile.

A lie, it whispers.

I laugh.

Caressing my ear.

I joke.

Stabbing my heart.

I'm fine.

Hovering around.

I'm okay.

Breaking my barriers.

I lose.

* * *

A little more, he tells himself.

Just a little more, he begged.

Just a bit more.

This bittersweet dream.

This pungent nightmare.

This addicting sweetness.

Please, he pleads.

Just a bit more.

* * *

No, I sob.

No, I cry.

But no.

No one listens.

* * *

_I'm gone, _I finally whisper.

And I _see._

I_ see _once again.

A wide grin spreads, and I jump into _his _arms.

So warm.

So, so warm.

A warmth I've forgotten- lost the feeling of.

Unbidden, the tears come.

He uses a gentle hand to wipe them away.

But I cry, and cry, and cry.

_I can't stop, _I sob.

He looks at me then, eyes so careful, so afraid, so loving, and I break.

He's _gone._

I tell myself.

I tell myself so many times.

I tell myself, and tell myself, and tell myself.

I tell myself.


End file.
